


Choose Insanity

by ShaneVansen



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Mostly Fluff, Romance, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneVansen/pseuds/ShaneVansen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I choose insanity</i> she said once, and had no idea what she was getting herself into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choose Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks go to [December21st](http://archiveofourown.org/users/December21st/pseuds/December21st) and [Peanutbutterer](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanutbutterer/pseuds/Peanutbutterer) for betaing. Much appreciated. :)
> 
> Some spoilers for _Skinny Dipper_ , and general knowledge of the show that's mostly covered in the pilot. Written pre- _Memories of Murder_.
> 
> Hello, Forever fandom! I hope we become very good friends.

_I choose insanity_ she says once, entirely flippant, and has no idea what she's getting herself into.

***

Being a homicide detective, seeing some of the worst that society has to offer, is a draining job. Before, she had Hanson at work and Sean to go home to; having the two of them to help shoulder the burden was enough. After, well... there were bars and the men she found there to help distract her not only from the job, but from her grief as well. She's not ashamed of her choices during those long, lonely months, but she's also glad that those days are behind her.

Somewhere along the line, she realizes that now she's got Henry.

He's quiet at first, reserved – outside of work, that is. In the morgue, he's been smug and self-assured since the moment they met. In the early days of their working relationship, though, she remembers how long it took just to talk him into joining them for a drink after work.

Somehow, without her quite noticing when, Jo finds that she's spending a lot of her free time with Henry. They go for drinks, with the others or just the two of them. He takes her to the most amazing, out-of-the-way places in the city, weaving stories from the past like he was there to witness them. Sometimes, when her days run late, he sits by her desk and entertains her with observations and trivia as she slogs through the paperwork or waits for results from the crime scene techs.

The personal stuff comes in bits and pieces, sentences dropped with studied indifference as they debate takeout choices or next steps. It's hard-won information on both their parts and, as far as Jo's concerned, worth every second of it.

This, she decides one evening as she joins Henry and Abe for dinner, is a different kind of friendship than any she's ever had before. And she wouldn't give it up for anything.

***

"You've been happier lately," Hanson says one day, out of the blue, and she looks at him like he's grown a second head.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been smiling more, the last couple months. It's the happiest I've seen you since you came back after Sean... you know."

He's right, she realizes. She has been happier lately. Lighter. Sean's still never far from her mind, but now there are moments she can think of him without the crushing grief.

"That's only because you've finally started doing your share of the paperwork," she shoots back, and Hanson laughs and steals the last of her fries.

***

There are several close calls in too short a time for Jo's comfort. While it's not the same as after Henry killed that man in self-defense, when he looked like he was trying to make up for the life he was forced to take, she still thinks he's a little too careless with his own safety. It's as if he has no sense of self-preservation.

One day, one of those close calls almost claims her rather than him when she steps in front of Henry to shield him, leaving her with some nasty cuts and bruises. Late that night, after the hospital visit and the paperwork, he sits her down in his living room and tells her everything.

She always knew there was something a little different about him, but this... _this_ never even crossed her mind.

"... and that's why I have a somewhat lengthy arrest record for public nudity."

He trails off then, and the silence is all the more noticeable for the fact that she has no idea how to fill it. She grasps for a response. "Well," she says, lamely, "there's no way I'm going to be able to fit that many candles on your next birthday cake."

There's a beat of silence and then startled laughter. It's relief more than anything else, she knows, but she thinks it's a good sign. "You got any more of this wine?" she asks, holding up her glass. "Because I've got questions, and I think we're going to be here a while."

***

Weeks later, when he asks, she tells him why she so easily believed his outrageous story.

"Too many things fit," she says. "Ever since I met you, there have been all of these little details that just didn't quite make sense, parts of the past you've talked about like you were there, the way you don't talk about your family or your past, all of this information you know. Now it all fits." She grins up at him. "Besides, I'm pretty good at knowing if someone is telling the truth. If you made all of that up without any signs of lying, then you're either a sociopath or mentally ill." Jo reaches over and grasps the ends of his scarf, giving it a gentle, playful tug. "And you may be a little odd, Henry, but I wouldn't go so far as to say you're delusional."

She smiles and glances back up. He's watching her with that little smirk on his face, and she rolls her eyes and laughs. But he's still looking at her, and she's still looking at him, and somehow the moment shifts from light to serious before she knows what's happening. Her fingers tighten around his scarf, and Jo finds that she can't look away.

There have been other moments, here and there, where one of them has held a look just a little too long, or said something just a little too ambiguous, but they're friends and sometimes lines get a little blurry. That's life. This, though? The way she's gripping the ends of his scarf for dear life and he's stepping closer and her body's suddenly humming with anticipation? She hasn't felt like this since—

– since Sean.

That thought throws her. She's at ease with touching, has always been okay with reaching out to others or sharing her body, but _this_? She doesn't do this. Sean was the first person in a long, long time to breach those particular defenses, and of course there's been no one since. Not who's made her feel like _this_.

It's too much. 

"Sorry," she breathes, letting go of his scarf and taking a step back, and she's almost gasping, like she can't get enough air. "I— sorry." And she turns and all but runs, leaving him standing there with no explanation. 

She makes it as far as her car, where she locks herself in, grabs on to the ring around her neck, and sobs like she hasn't in months. 

***

If it were up to her, they'd never speak about what happened; she's very good at ignoring things she doesn't want to acknowledge. Henry, though, is not shy about – well, anything, as far as Jo can tell. Which is sometimes a pain, to be honest, and this is most definitely one of those times.

She doesn't get any chance to hide from him, because they catch a case first thing the morning after and so of course she and Hanson have to go down to the morgue to get cause of death.

"Detectives!" he greets them, like he hasn't a care in the world, and launches into a run-down of his observations of their victim's death. Jo thinks that maybe, for once, he'll let it go, but he calls her back before she can escape.

"About last night," he starts, but she cuts him off.

"It's fine, Henry. Things happen. Let's just forget it and move on, okay?"

He just looks at her for a moment, like he can see inside her head. She manages to keep his gaze, and eventually he nods. "As you wish, Detective."

"Thanks," she murmurs, and catches up to Hanson at the elevator, feeling Henry watching her the entire time.

***

There's awkwardness and avoidance, for a while, but it turns out that Henry's remarkably good at carrying on as though things are the same as they've always been, and it isn't long before they're back to their easy-going friendship.

She's glad, she has to admit. She enjoys their time together, especially their off-hours without a murder to be solved, and she would have missed him.

***

It's kind of traumatic, the first time she sees him die. Even knowing what she knows.

She doesn't, as a rule, bring him along if she thinks it's going to be dangerous; he's a civilian, after all, and even taking into account that he's apparently immortal and brilliant at picking up on the important details, he still has a knack of pissing people off with his off-handed observations about their lives. Therefore, if she thinks things might go south, he stays in the morgue while she and Hanson do their jobs.

This time, there's no reason to think they'll run into a problem; it's a standard interview, gathering more information on their victim. But the man panics just a handful of questions into the conversation, pulls a gun from under a couch cushion of all places, and the next thing she knows Henry's bleeding on the ground.

Jo manages to bring down their suspect, cuffs him to the oven handle in his kitchen, and calls for backup and an ambulance. Then she drops to her knees next to Henry, who's pale and bleeding and gasping for breath on the floor. "Oh, god, Henry," she breathes, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck and using it as a compress against the hole in his chest.

He smiles up at her weakly. "It's all right, Detective. Either it's not as bad as it looks and I'll be spending some time at the hospital, or I'll shortly be needing a ride home from the East River." He grimaces and arches, obviously in pain, and Jo wishes there were something she could do. "Though I must say, I'm afraid it seems more likely that I shall be requiring your driving services." 

"Stop talking and save your strength," she tells him. "The ambulance will be here soon." While he's told her that he can't die, and she _does_ believe him, it's an entirely different situation to see him dying in front of her and trust that it won't be permanent. She's seen too much death, lost too many people, to just shrug it off.

It's emotion versus logic, she supposes, and with her, emotion almost always wins. Even if it usually ends up hurting her.

Henry's breathing is becoming more and more laboured, shallower and wet-sounding, and she presses harder against his wound. "C'mon, Henry, just hang in there a few more minutes. Ambulance is almost here." 

He blinks up at her, slowly, and murmurs, "See you soon." A few more breaths, and he stills.

"Henry?" She shakes him a little, then checks his pulse. Nothing. "C'mon, Henry. You can't do this." He doesn't respond, of course, and Jo sits back, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow because her hands are stained with his blood.

When she lowers her arm, he's gone.

For several seconds, all she can do is sit and stare. She'd known, of course, what to expect, but knowing and seeing – or not seeing, in this case – are two very different things. Not only is there no indication that he'd been shot, there's no sign that he'd ever been there at _all_. Not even a drop of blood remains behind.

This, it turns out, is a good thing, because Jo can hear sirens approaching and she has no idea how she would explain a puddle of blood but no body. As it is, she has just enough time to concoct a story to explain Henry's absence in case their suspect says anything before she's joined by police and paramedics.

Shortly after that, she has to go pick up a rather naked Dr. Morgan before he adds another charge to his arrest record.

***

The second and third times he dies, it's pure recklessness on his part.

The first incident, Jo has fallen behind because she had to cuff the first suspect and put him in the car. Instead of waiting like he's supposed to, Henry takes off after the second man, who shoves him over the side of the Brooklyn Bridge. He hit his head on the way down, he tells her later, though he's not sure if it's the blow to the head that killed him or if, being rendered unconscious, he drowned.

It's a strange, strange life he leads, she muses. But at least she doesn't have to go far to pick him up that time.

Barely a month later and he manages to get himself taken hostage in a bank robbery. To his credit, Henry was already in the bank when the gunmen pulled their weapons, but from what she pieces together later, he offered himself up as a human shield. It's pure luck that no one notices his disappearing act in the following chaos.

Henry's clearly used to it, and Abe seems to take it in stride. As far as Jo's concerned, though, it doesn't get any easier with repetition.

***

The fourth time he dies, she calls him on it.

Jo drags him out to the bar – though, to be honest, it doesn't take much persuasion – sits him down in a booth that offers some privacy, and waits until their drinks arrive before confronting him. "You need to be more careful."

He blinks at her. "In regards to what, may I ask?"

She sets down her beer and leans forward. "Taking risks. Putting yourself in harm's way. _Dying_."

He smiles like she's making a big deal out of nothing. "It's not as if I'm actually putting my life in danger, Detective."

"How do you know?" she demands. "How do you know that you don't get only a certain number of deaths and that one of these times, it'll stick and you'll be dead for good?"

He averts his gaze, staring at something she thinks is years gone. "That might not be so bad," he says softly.

Whatever she was expecting him to say, that certainly isn't it. "What do you mean?"

"I've lived a very long time, Jo," he starts, shifting her to given name, which he still doesn't use all that often even after almost a year of working together. "I've watched my family and friends age and die, over and over, knowing that it will keep happening and there's nothing I can do to stop it. You loved Sean very much, and it hurt you terribly when he died. Imagine living that, again and again. Always the one being left behind."

It's crossed her mind, here and there, that maybe eternal youth isn't all it's cracked up to be at first glance. But here, now, seeing how much he _hurts_ and knowing there isn't a goddamn thing she can do to help, it makes her ache for him in a way that steals her breath.

She reaches across the table and takes his hand, and his fingers close over hers like she's the only thing keeping him from drowning.

They sit without talking, their quiet undisturbed by the sounds of the bar around them, until Jo breaks the silence. "I can't imagine how horrible that must be, Henry. I don't _want_ to imagine it. And I hate that you have to live it." She squeezes his hand. "All the same, I'd really rather if you stopped dying on my watch."

He huffs a breath that's almost a laugh, returning the squeeze before letting go of her hand and sitting back, fingers swiping quickly at his eyes. "I can only promise to try my best."

"Good enough." Neither of them, she's sure, is in the mood to stick around any longer, so she drops enough money on the table to cover their drinks and slides out of the booth. "C'mon, Henry. I'll drive you home."

"Much obliged, Detective." He follows her to the front of the bar, and somehow, before they make their way out into the chilly evening air, her hand's firmly back in his.

She doesn't let go until they've reached the car.

***

Jo wouldn't be surprised if, after their conversation, Henry started to pull away. He just shared how very difficult it is for him to lose people, after all, and if nothing else their conversation has brought them even closer together. Instead of distancing himself, however, he starts hanging around more, coming up on lunch breaks now and then, inviting her over for dinner more often, taking her to new places around the city.

She doesn't think about it too much. With Henry, she's found, sometimes it's easier to just go with it.

When it comes to the important stuff, he hasn't let her down yet.

***

Jo's always hated winter. While Sean had loved it, would take any opportunity to be outside once the snow hit, it's always been her least favourite season. Sure, the crisp air is invigorating and the first snowfall is always pretty, but soon enough that cold starts to soak right into her bones and the snow turns grey and slushy and just makes everything look dirty.

They've been stuck outside for going on two hours now, the sun set half an hour ago, taking what little warmth there'd been with it, and she's miserably cold. There isn't really much for her and Hanson to do at the moment but this death is high profile enough that they're sticking around until the crime scene techs are finished and the M.E.'s office takes the body back to the morgue.

There's a gust of wind and she shivers, clutching her coffee a little tighter as she ducks around the corner of a building to avoid the breeze, but her drink's long lost its heat. Idly, she wonders what Reece would say if she pulled one of the officers from perimeter duty to send him on a coffee run.

Something drapes around her neck from behind, and she recognizes the scent of Henry's cologne before she's spun around to face him. "Won't you be cold?" she asks, even as he adjusts his scarf so that it's snug up against her chin.

"Not as cold as you seem to be." He ties the ends into a loose knot so that the scarf stays in place.

He doesn't drop his hands; neither of them drops their gaze. _We've been here before_ , she thinks, strangely calm, only this time she doesn't have the urge to run.

There are dozens of reasons not to do this, starting with the fact that they work together and ending with the not insignificant circumstance of his immortality, but that doesn't seem to be stopping either of them because she's leaning up and he's leaning down and the only coherent thought Jo has left is that she's very, very glad they're out of sight of everyone gathered around the crime scene.

"Jo!" Hanson hollers, and she and Henry both jerk back with a start. Luckily, Hanson isn't within eyesight; he must be looking for her.

"Over here," she calls back, not looking away from Henry, and lowers her voice so she's not overheard by her approaching partner. "So, we'll... pick this up later?"

He fixes the scarf, completely unnecessarily as far as she can tell. "I look forward to it." She thinks there's more he wants to say, but then Hanson's right there and it's back to work for them both.

***

It takes them a couple of days, but they do, in fact, pick it up later.

It's probably not the smartest decision either of them has ever made, but that doesn't seem to be stopping them.

***

_I choose insanity_ she said once, and had no idea what she was getting herself into.

She still doesn't know, to be honest, but she's looking forward to finding out.

_\--end--_

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone knows the code for linking other AO3 authors, that information would be appreciated. :)


End file.
